Wedding Day
by MarjieBraginski
Summary: Francis and Matthew are getting married but they seem to be having second thoughts.


Francis, usually calm with such situations, is acting like nearly every man in his positions since time began. Arthur has been watching him run around in a panic all morning, amused as to how he can be so calm when it comes to love and yet be so scared at the thought of getting married.

"What if he says no?" Francis asks the mirror before starting to pace around the room again. Arthur sighs, he's been asked the same question numerous times since they reached the church.

"Francis," he starts, hoping to stop him before he wears a hole in the floor.

Francis runs a hand through his hair. "What if someone objects?"

Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose, beginning to wish that he'd never agreed on coming to the wedding. He tries calling out to him again.

The Frenchman ignores him and continues to pace, tugging at his collar. "Mon Dieu, what if..."

"Francis!" Arthur snaps and Francis stops, looking towards him in surprise. Arthur stands and walks towards his friend, grabbing his shoulders.

"Matthew will not say no. You've been dating him for over a year now. I think that you're both at that stage where you're sure what you want."

Francis sighs and allows Arthur to drag him over to the plush chairs.

"I should have asked Mathieu to elope with me," he mumbles. "I can't deal with all of this pressure."

"Francis," Arthur pats his shoulder. "You've dealt with worse situations. What can be so scary about marrying the person you love?"

Francis moves away and grins at the British man. "I told you the same thing when you got married." The smile fades and he slumps into the chair.

"I love Mathieu, I truly do, but what if I make an awful husband? What if we have children and I'm a lousy father?"

Arthur pauses and rests one hand on his friends knee. Francis opens his mouth to say something but Arthur silences him with a stern look.

"Listen to me. Your always know what's best. Know when to agree and when to tell me I'm being an arse." he stops for a breath, his cheeks burning a little. "Y-You'll make a wonderful husband to Matthew, a-and a wonderful father."

Francis looks over to him. "When did you get so nice, sourcils?"

"W-What?" the Englishman felt his flush reach his ears, this time in anger, at the nickname. "You frog! That's how you treat me when I try to be serious and help you?"

Arthur stands and brushes imaginary dust from his trousers. "You're hopeless."

"Of course. I'm surprised you haven't realized that yet," a soft expression flickers across the Frenchman's face.

Arthur shrugs, suddenly serious again. "Then I suppose you had best get out there and show Matthew how much you love him and prove that you aren't."

The Brit extends his hand and Francis grabs it. "Thank you, Arthur."

The moment is interrupted by loud knocks at the door and Gilbert shouting that the bride will be ready soon and to get their asses out there soon before Ivan devours all of the alcohol and doesn't leave any for the rest of them.

Francis stands and moves towards the door, leaving and walking down the hall.

"Francis! You're going the wrong way!" Arthur calls after him.

The Frenchman turns around, blue eyes sparkling. "I'm taking your advice and going to see mon cher Mathieu."

"I-I didn't mean now!" Arthur sputters and runs after him. "It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding!"

It was supposed to be the happiest day of his life. Yet, all Matthew could do was stare at himself in the mirror, self conscious. Matthew lifted his hands and ran them down the white dress he was wearing.

"Al?" he called to his older brother Alfred, who was sitting in one of the chairs. "Could you zip me up?"

Alfred rolled his eyes and walked over to help. "I can't believe that pervert got you into a dress."

A blush painted the Canadians face. "W-Well, you made Arthur wear a dress for your wedding! T-That makes you a pervert too!"

"Yeah, well, I'm the hero so that makes it okay."

Matthew snorted then turned his attention back to his reflection.

"But he is a pervert. I mean, do you know how many people that guy has been with? It's a surprise to me that he finally decided to settle down," the elder commented.

Matthew froze at the words letting them sink in. "Alfred...I can't do this. I just can't do this! I mean, what was I thinking? Me and Francis? Together? There's no way."

Alfred looked at his brother, surprised. It was fifteen minutes until the wedding and he's getting cold feet now, of all times? Now was not the time to chicken out.

"Mattie, you're being ridiculous. Listen to yourself. What are you so worried about?"

Matthew pulls off his veil and sits down on the plushy red chair.

"What if this is a mistake? Francis has a reputation to go after anyone. What if I'm just another one of his flings?"

The American takes a seat beside the younger boy and shakes his head. "You're crazy. I'll admit, your taste in guys is questionable, but if you love him you love him and there's nothing you can do about it. Hell, look at me and Artie. If we can make it together then you and Francis should have nothing to worry about."

Matthew smiles, yet still isn't completely convinced. "But what if-"

"Mattie," Alfred grabs his face and makes his brother face him. "If he didn't love you he wouldn't have proposed. He's marrying you. He wants to spend the rest of his life with you. Bro, don't let him go. You hold onto him or he'll find someone else who will. Don't fuck this up. He loves you, dude."

Throughout Alfred's little speech, Matthew couldn't help but become teary eyes at his words. Of course Al was right. How could he think otherwise? He knew he had made the right choice in making his brother his best man.

"Thanks Al," he sniffled.

Alfred gives a smile and reaches over to grab the veil Matthew had taken off. He gently places it on Matthew's strawberry blonde hair.

"There. You're perfect."

"No, Alfred Jones. You are," Matthew says with a smile and hugs him.

As they both stand up to leave they heard arguing at the door to the dressing room.

"It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding!"

The thick British accent was easily registered to the brothers as Arthur. Matthew turned suddenly to see who he was arguing with and stopped in shock at what he saw. Francis was standing there, dressed up in a groom's attire smiling at him.

"Mathieu...tu regardes absolument beau dans cette robe..."

Francis walked over to a still shocked Canadian and grabbed both of hid hands. He stared into Matthew's eyes as everything added up in Matthew's mind.

"We're getting married today..."

"Oui, of course Mathieu. You did say yes when I proposed."

The Canadian hugged his soon to be husband, shaking and letting small tears fall down his cheeks. There was an arm around his waist, and a hand lightly caressing his cheek, gently wiping away the tears.

"I will never leave you," Francis whispered. "I'll never do anything to hurt you."

Matthew nodded, leaned into the hug, starting into Francis' blue eyes.

"Je t'aime, Francis."

"Me too, mon cœur. Je t'aime aussi."

A cough sounded from across the room and the couple turned to see an awkward Arthur and a goofy grin on Alfred's face.

Matthew pulled away from the embrace, embarrassed.

"U-Um, s-sorry..."

"Now's not the time for apologizing!" the American laughed and grabbed their wrists to shove them out into the hallway. "Go get married before you make everyone wait any longer!"

The married couple watched as the soon to be newlyweds walked hand in hand down the hall.

"Hey, Artie?" Alfred asked eyeing the Brit.

Arthur hummed in response and glanced over, raising an eyebrow.

"Why don't we ever have moments like that?" he whined.

The Brit flushed and smacked his husband over the head, walking away muttering about stupid Americans.

Nursing his head, Alfred smiled.

"Oh yeah. If we can make it those two are a match made in heaven."


End file.
